


claimed

by andnowforyaya



Series: yaya's winter writing blast 2015 [6]
Category: B.A.P, K-pop
Genre: Eating Disorders, M/M, Prison, Prison Sex, Prostitution, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 05:05:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5362481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andnowforyaya/pseuds/andnowforyaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He made a rule for himself the first day here: No drama. Don’t get involved. The end goal is to get out of this hell, and that’s what Yongguk is going to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	claimed

**Author's Note:**

> for anon, who wanted: Bangdae prison au. Bang saving dae who gets targeted by everyone for his mouth. Whump, angst, whatever.
> 
> sorry i didn't get to the tattoo part of the prompt :(
> 
> PLEASE NOTE THE TAGS AS WARNINGS. this isn't nice at all.

They bring in a kid with a mouth so perfectly formed even Yongguk imagines what it would feel like to press his thumb into that full bottom lip, how soft and yielding it would be. No, he can’t be a kid, and it’s not good to think of him like that. He’s old enough to be locked away with the rest of them, but his face is still round and boyish, cheeks full. Innocent, doe eyes. His frame is slight, slighter even than Yongguk’s, and Yongguk shakes his head when the guard leads him to his bunk near the end of the block. Eyes follow them. A wolf whistle earns a couple of chuckles from the different bunks that make up Yongguk’s block. A lamb to a slaughter.

“Inmate, introductions,” the guard says, and then doesn’t give Yongguk or the new boy any time for introductions. “Make yourself at home,” the guard continues, gruff and mean the way a bully with new shoes on the school playground might scoff at your old, ratty ones. The guard shoves a welcome pack into the newcomer’s chest, and the inmate grabs at the material, eyes wide. The boy is already in the prison’s uniform, a bland grey coverall with his inmate number printed on his chest, so the welcome pack only contains a couple more essentials like toiletries. He stands, stiff, as the guard leaves.

“You have to make your bed up,” Yongguk says, not unkindly from his seat on his bed. He remembers his first day in prison, too. He dog-ears the page of the book he’s reading, setting it to the side. “My name’s Yongguk.”

“Daehyun,” the kid says, still hugging the welcome packet to his chest.

“How long you in for, Daehyun?”

“Ten months,” Daehyun whispers, finally putting the packet down. He doesn’t make the bed but sits on the bare mattress instead, his shoulders narrow and curved in on themselves. “You?”

“Six months left,” Yongguk says. “Two years. Shortened for good behavior, which I intend to continue. So don’t fuck anything up for me.” He doesn’t mean to be gruff with him, but it slips out anyway. Yongguk stares at Daehyun with hard eyes. He’s spent the past 18 months keeping his head down, keeping himself on the good list, working the cozy job of prison librarian assistant, and now the prison gods decide to gift him with this vision of a boy as his bunkmate? They’re joking, right? Daehyun wouldn’t last ten months here unprotected. He wouldn’t last _one_ month.

Still, he can’t make it his business. He made a rule for himself the first day here: No drama. Don’t get involved. The end goal is to get out of this hell, and that’s what Yongguk is going to do.

“Got it?” Yongguk growls when Daehyun doesn’t answer.

Daehyun flinches, curling up on himself, nodding.

Forget one month, Yongguk thinks. Daehyun won’t last a week.

.

Yongguk wakes in the middle of the night, a feeling of wrongness in his chest spreading slowly. This is the third night in a row he’s woken up like this, but he has been trying to ignore this feeling and has been largely successful. Tonight, though, Daehyun is crying.

The kind of crying that wouldn’t garner sympathy in prison, but annoyance. Too loud in a quiet room, Daehyun hiccuping into his flimsy pillow to try to stifle the noise. _Ignore it,_ his brain tells him, but his heart wrenches at Daehyun’s broken sobbing.

Yongguk knows why Daehyun is crying, of course. Three hours into Daehyun’s first day, Seunghyun, an inmate who had been in solitary confinement for the first two weeks of Yongguk’s imprisonment for assaulting another prisoner, had already claimed him. Daehyun disappeared with him for a couple of hours and came back with a split lip. From then, every night it’s been the same: the guard announces lights out, and Daehyun feigns sleep. He wakes up to use the bathroom and comes back to their bunk about an hour later. Sometimes, he disappears during the day, too.

Whispers around the prison are all about Seunghyun’s new play thing, how little and perfect he is, how obedient. How Seunghyun might be willing to trade a round with Daehyun for a pack of cigarettes.

Daehyun has been quiet throughout it all. A jumpy shadow. He’s been here for two weeks and Yongguk can’t recall if they’ve had a real conversation past their first one. This, however, is a shared fault of his own, too. No drama. Don’t get involved.

Daehyun sniffles and Yongguk turns in his bed, breaking the only rule he’s set for himself in this place. “You don’t have to do what he tells you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. Walls are thin, here, if they even exist at all.

The other inmate startles, his eyes huge. Yongguk has the sudden, vivid image of Daehyun gagging around a cock, tears in his eyes.

“Yes, I do,” Daehyun whispers back angrily. “You can’t -- just _say_ that.”

“You can tell the guards. Seunghyun has a history. They’ll have to do something,” Yongguk replies calmly, a doctor prescribing medicine to a patient. Removed from the situation.

He’s surprised when Daehyun hisses back, “I’m a _prostitute_. They’ll just laugh. And then Seunghyun will kill me. It’s how things go.”

Daehyun turns on his bed, curling himself under the covers and then bringing the blanket up to his ears, clearly done with the conversation. Yongguk balks. Here he was, offering an olive branch, and the kid was having none of it. A sense of injustice stirs up inside of him. No drama. Don’t get involved. He turns back around to face the wall, meets the photograph of his friends on the outside: Himchan and Jongup and Junhong, all of them waiting for him. He wonders if there’s anyone out there waiting for Daehyun.

.

A month goes by, and Daehyun has stopped eating. If he makes it to the cafeteria he will manage a carton of juice or a slice of bread or something small, but that’s only if he makes it there in the first place. Yongguk watches, because Daehyun has been icy towards him ever since that night, icy and unresponsive like a stone wall. He watches, and he worries.

Is he on hunger strike? The guards won’t notice until something very bad happens, and Daehyun still disappears with Seunghyun at odd hours of the day or in the middle of the night, sometimes with small groups of people. Yongguk tries not to get involved, but he’s always been a sucker for the hopeless cases, a champion of the weak. It’s what got him into prison in the first place, a protest gone awry and people hurt because of him. Daehyun is a hollow version of himself, his wrists too thin, his cheeks sunken, eyes dull. Some people deal with trauma by disappearing, Yongguk remembers hearing from somewhere, maybe from Himchan. Is that what Daehyun is trying to do?

Yongguk pauses in his shelving of books, his attention drawn to the boy who has just entered the prison library, the very boy that was occupying his mind.

Daehyun is out of breath, his cheeks flushed, as he stumbles to a seat at one of the reading tables. Seeing Yongguk out of the corner of his eye, he says, “I just needed a minute. To myself.”

Yongguk nods, goes back to shelving, eyes roving back to Daehyun like he’s a magnet. Something is wrong.

Almost exactly a minute later, Seunghyun shows up, his body filling up the doorway of the library, his grin mean. “There you are,” he growls.

“Please,” Daehyun says, his voice cracking, hands in front of him. “I need a break.”

“You got a break.” Seunghyun marches into the library and corners Daehyun in his seat. His hand snatches Daehyun’s upper arm and he hauls him up and up and up, Daehyun dangling like a puppet, his face crumpling.

“No,” Daehyun is saying, though he follows when Seunghyun drags him bodily toward the door. “ _Please_.”

Seunghyun mentions something about his commissary, about his accounts, about his cigarettes, and Daehyun trips after him, given up with his pleading, and now just crying silently. Before they leave the library, he looks back at Yongguk, quickly, searching.

No drama. Don’t get involved.

Yongguk looks away.

No drama. Don’t get involved. Daehyun refused his help and sympathy and advice once. He is on his own. Yongguk has only five months left. Five months of this hell, of avoiding prison politics, of eating shitty prison food, of thirty minutes daily prescribed prison exercise. Five more months of not sleeping through the night, of Daehyun shrinking, shrinking, shrinking. Would he try to disappear?

“Shit,” Yongguk mutters to himself, putting one last book in its place on a shelf. He teeters on his toes, indecision warring in his mind. Daehyun will haunt all of his dreams, he thinks, when he gets out of here.

Yongguk leaves the library, locking it up behind him, and follows after Seunghyun.

.

He finds them in the laundry room in the basement. Seunghyun doesn’t work in laundry but he must have friends who do, who would let Seunghyun bring Daehyun down here to fuck him, or to have another inmate fuck him for payment. The going rate these days, Yongguk has heard, is a couple of dollars deposited into Seunghyun’s commissary account.

Yongguk finds them because they are laughing. The group are tucked away out of view into the corner of the laundry room, behind a stack of old machines that no longer work, and their cruel laughter echoes in the basement. He treads lightly, unsure what it is he thought he would do. He only has himself against one -- two -- he counts four voices -- four other men. But then Daehyun says something. He can’t make it out, gargled as it is, but he does hear the returning _thump_ , the sound of a body hitting another body. Daehyun doesn’t say anything after that.

He should have brought a guard with him. He should have brought _anything_ with him. Casting a quick glance around, Yongguk spots a wooden broom leaning against the wall. He takes it in hand, and then he steels himself to round the machines.

They don’t notice him at first, too focused on Daehyun and what is being done to him. Yongguk’s stomach rolls with nausea at the sight. Daehyun on his knees with his chest pressed to the floor, his coverall still hooked around one ankle as another inmate -- Yongguk thinks his name is Hongsang -- ruts into him from behind. Daehyun’s eyes are closed. Yongguk can’t tell if he’s conscious or not.

Seunghyun has his back to Yongguk. One of the other men is righting his clothes, and the last is beginning to strip. Violence spreads through Yongguk like fire in his veins. They must sense it. The man stripping pauses and looks up, twisting his neck around until his sees Yongguk standing there with a broom in hand. He feels wild.

“What the fuck,” this man says, slowly, dumbly, like a cow chewing cud.

Seunghyun turns and smirks at Yongguk. “Want a turn?”

“You’re going to stop this,” Yongguk snarls. “And leave him right now. And never touch him again.”

This only makes Seunghyun smirk wider, giving his face a slightly crazed expression. “I thought you didn’t care?” Seunghyun says. “You bunk with him and _now_ you want to step in? You technically had first dibs. You gave your chance up.”

Hongsang stops fucking Daehyun, done. He stands and tucked himself back into his coveralls, frowning slightly in disappointment. “It’s better when he fights. I want my money back.” He chuckles, putting a hand on Seunghyun’s shoulder before seeming to see Yongguk for the first time.

Behind the men, Daehyun blinks, but he doesn’t move. _Shock_ , Yongguk thinks.

“You’re going to stop this,” Yongguk says again, his grip around the broom handle making his knuckles white.

“Or what?” Seunghyun taunts. “Or, what, are you going to _fight_ me? You, the pacifist? With a _broom_?”

Yongguk doesn’t think; he just acts. He whips the broom around and then Seunghyun is on the floor, his cheek an angry red from being struck.

Seunghyun is only stunned for a moment. In the next, rage takes over him completely. The other inmate fights like a man who knows death is just around the corner. He throws his weight behind every punch and kick, reckless and ruthless. The broom snaps in two. Seunghyun wrenches the wooden handles away from Yongguk and they clatter somewhere across the room. The other two men make a run for it, not wishing to be implicated or involved.

Yongguk is thrown against the machines, over and over. Seunghyun’s cheek is bleeding. He punches Yongguk so hard across his jaw that Yongguk spits out blood, ears ringing. A punch for a punch, a lucky knee to the gut.

It’s the brutal, slow crawl of a brawl, Yongguk’s grip made slippery with blood, his breath coming in raggedly. Seunghyun just won’t go down and _stay_ down.

He trips over a pile of clothes left out on the floor, goes sprawling, and Seunghyun is on top of him in an instant, his hands creeping around his neck, his thumbs digging into his throat. Scratching at Seunghyun’s arms does nothing to slacken the grip, and he knows that Seunghyun will keep this pressure on his throat until he is dead. His lungs are on fire. His limbs grow heavy as his vision swims. Then, suddenly, he is choking on air.

The guards. He has the vague understanding that Seunghyun is being restrained, that someone is asking him if he can stand. He points over to where Daehyun is instead of answering, is met with an, “Oh, shit,” before he passes out.

.

He wakes up in the hospital. He will spend a few days recovering here before being admitted back into the prison population, he learns. And Seunghyun? Seunghyun has been transported down to super max. Too many strikes on his record.

Daehyun? No, he can’t visit him. The nurse frowns, sympathetic. She tells him that Daehyun will take a little longer to recover, and that they are considering transferring him to another prison for his safety.

“Good,” Yongguk says, closing his eyes to sleep.

.

They bring Daehyun in a week and a half later, just as Yongguk is about to go to breakfast with the rest of the population. He thinks at first that Daehyun is going to collect his things and go, carted off to another prison where the guards are more diligent, where the inmates aren’t so bloodthirsty, but the guard leaves and Daehyun stays, and he doesn’t do anything but sit on the bed and stare at Yongguk.

“What are you still doing here?” Yongguk blurts, stunned and angry. “I thought they would transfer you.”

“They wanted to,” Daehyun says. “But I told them no.”

“Why the hell not?”

“You’re the only person who’s ever tried to save me,” Daehyun says flatly.

This brings Yongguk back down to his bed, sitting on the edge and gripping the mattress tight. “I’ve only got a few months left,” he says. “I don’t want any trouble.”

“I don’t either,” Daehyun says. “I just want -- to feel safe. For a little while. And I think I would feel safe with you.”

Yongguk worries his lip between his teeth. No drama. Don’t get involved. His rules have been thrown out the window. “Come on,” he says with finality. “I was just about to get breakfast. You hungry?”

Daehyun doesn’t quite smile, but his eyes go brighter, hope behind them, and he stands when Yongguk stands. “Starved,” he says.

.

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE: 
> 
> So, guys. There's this fun BAP Fic Fest that comes around every once in a while called [The Brownie Bunch](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/the_brownie_bunch_4/profile) and you should definitely check it out! We have [writer-sign ups](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1drLNQ47Z8uXLt9W4w2g82kHdTEX9Ti5-e5Zng-0u6aA/viewform?c=0&w=1) open now, and prompting will begin soon~ It'll be super fun, and you can feel free to message me @andnowforyaya on twitter if you have questions!


End file.
